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56 Under The Wooden Canopies
56 Under The Wooden Canopies
By Delaney Adams
Under the wooden canopies,
the musky smell of smoke
from a fire once burning,
clings to each piece of damp clothing.
Under the wooden canopies
the dim golden bulb emits a warm glow
within the darkening dusk
swallowing the earth,
casting shadows over the familiar faces.
Under the wooden canopies
the cool steel strings wore rough callouses into our fingers,
as the speakers emphasized the sounds
that seemed to live, and move through the lively air,
like bright red ribbons,
wrapping and spinning around dark silhouettes.
Under the wooden canopies
the sound of laughter and quiet mumbles were muffled,
by the rhythm of the music and light rain,
which seemed as if we were in a movie.
Smiles were shared
and we prospered,
under the wooden canopies.